Rump Roast
by Red Slayer
Summary: A Grey Warden has a hole in her life, and there's only one man she wants to fill it. A mature love story. No really. I swear.


_**So I got home from an exhausting 10 hour retail shift, and this...thing...oozed out of me, before congealing in the form of a story. I figured 'What the fuck', and decided to let you good folk read it. I imagine I'll be regretting that decision in the future. Regardless, enjoy this sweet, beautiful love story.**_

Rump Roast

Kallian Tabris was having a crisis. She was a Grey Warden, a damned good one if you asked her, probably the best (Which wasn't really saying much considering there were only two left), and a beautiful, raven haired young woman. And yet she wasn't getting laid. Like, at all. Oh, she was sure she could get courters lining up for her, but there was only one man she wanted: a stallion of a man, a strong, driven, incredibly masculine, jaw droppingly handsome, four foot tall berserker killing machine, and his name was Oghren.

Unfortunately for our heroine, two things were true about Oghren, and she only knew about the second one. 1) The man was an idiot. 2) He was a mystery wrapped in an enigma, and despite her best efforts, she could not figure him out. She'd watched him in battle (His balls to the wall, blood splattering berserker fighting style made her uncomfortably moist), in camp, and even while he slept, but all she knew was that he liked alcohol and murder. The second she could definitely work with, but that wasn't enough! You can't build a relationship on murder!...entirely! Besides, she had the alcohol tolerance of a baby nug; even smelling the shit he drank almost made her pass out. His unnatural alcohol tolerance was just many of the things she found incredibly sexy about him, but as intel went, it was shit. She needed more.

Specifically, she needed to learn what she would have to do to make him fuck her. And not gently either, really fucking hard. She wanted to be **carried** to the next darkspawn fight. Ooh, maybe she could rig up a makeshift baby carrier, strap it to Sten, and have him carry her round like a dad who's lost the will to live? Anyway yeah, she needed to learn Oghren's tastes...and how to make him taste her.

Sadly, info on that front was lacking. All she had to go on regarding Oghren's...interests, were his past partners, i.e. Branka. So she'd compiled a list of all she knew about Branka (Hadn't taken long. Drawing a little doodle of her and Oghren with little love hearts around them, fucking like bunnies, had taken longer), and set to work.

First she'd tried dying her hair brown (Getting the dye had cost a bloody fortune), but never had there been a man who noticed anything less than Oghren had noticed that hair colour change. She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised: men never noticed when women got their hair done.

Next, she'd figured he liked mentally damaged women (Why she'd put 'mentally damaged' on the Branka list before 'physical appearance' is a question best left unasked), so she'd bashed her head on a rock until the world had gone topsy turvy. Contrary to her hopes, Oghren had found his hilarious, and she'd thrown up in a ditch.

Remembering that dwarven women were quite...stout (The kindest word she'd been able to think off), she'd started bulking up and eating more, adding more muscle and meat to her form. Being an elf though, it hadn't done much, and, once again, he hadn't noticed.

Scrolling through Branka's characteristics (Brown hair, insane, meaty etc.), she'd realised something that should have been obvious before: dwarven women were short. Not much she could do about that, but she hoped that the petite frame she had as an elf would help. She wasn't a dwarf, but at least she wasn't a human, or Maker forbid a Qunari. It was either that or chop some chunks out of her legs, and she didn't know where she'd find someone willing to do that for the 10 bronze coins she had left after buying the dye.

She didn't know much else about Branka, except that the woman ate from both sides of the buffet. She'd tried hiring female prostitutes in the Pearl, but wouldn't you know it, the one and only time she'd been able to work up the nerve to do it, and Oghren had been off taking a shit. Maker she loved that man's questionable bowels.

There were only two more facts she knew about Branka: the woman had tried to murder Oghren, and he was in love with her. This told her one thing: the man had some kinky tastes. Unable to find a dominatrix outfit and a whip in Denerim's market (Not like her miniscule coffers would allow for such a purchase anyway), she'd settled for trying to kill Oghren. Well, not really. The plan was to make it **look** like she was trying to kill him, by firing an arrow past his head while he was walking in the woods. Unfortunately for her, she was a damn good shot. Oghren wore an eyepatch these days.

The last item on the list was 'Oghren loves her'. This item filled the warden with a fury hot enough to burn a rage demon, but she could see a way around it: help her beloved get over his bitch of an ex wife. To that end, she'd finished the quest to reach the Anvil of the Void, then murdered Branka right in front of him. Then she'd punched the woman's corpse for half an hour for good measure, before throwing it into the magma surrounding the forge. Surely that would help him get over her? Well, he'd been drinking a lot more lately. That was good! Men drank to make merry, and not for any other reasons, that she knew of.

So now she was broke, possibly had a concussion, and was no closer to having wild dwarven oats sowed all over her. _If this goes on much longer,_ _ **I'll**_ _be the one needing a drink._ She thought as she lay in her bedroll, regretting her choices in life. Eventually, staring at her tent's ceiling lost its entertainment value, and she decided to go outside for a piss.

It was a clear night in the party camp. Alistair was snoring loud enough to wake the next Archdemon, and everyone else was somehow sleeping through it. Everyone save Kallian and Oghren. She saw him there, sat by the fire, drinking. What deep, insightful, undoubtedly sexy thoughts were going through his brilliant mind? _Holy Maker I need him_ _ **NOW**_ _._

It was no use though. Once again, the man's only focus was on his liquor. He didn't even notice that she was wearing her slip, and kept bending over for seemingly no reason. _It's like I don't even exist._ The warden thought sadly as she trudged by. _Maybe I can find a bear or something in the woods? Killing always cheers me up._ A small, wan smile on her face, she passed Oghren, heading for the trees.

"You there." The two words made her stop immediately, the voice she recognised made her drip slightly. Slowly, she turned to Oghren, and saw him smirking. "Aye, you." She almost fainted. _Dear sweet beautiful Maker please don't let this be a joke or I swear I'll storm the Black City to stick a knife in your eye._

"M...me?" She stuttered, aware that she sounded like a shy, blushing maiden, but too far gone to care.

"I've been watching you." She came dangerously close to fainting then, actually swaying on her feet and losing touch with the world for a few seconds. She noticed that Oghren was swaying too, but paid it no mind. Obviously he was just as nervous as she was. His mesmerising eyes locked with hers, and he grinned. "Where can I get some sauce for that rump roast?" He chuckled, before licking his lips. _Oh_ _ **FUCK**_ _yes._ This was her moment. The moment she'd been waiting so, so long for. Kallian had no idea what had brought this on, but she didn't care. The next words that came out of her mouth were purely automatic, but she'd never meant anything more.

"Right here, you mad dwarven stallion." Oghren giggled, and swayed on his feet, just barely managing to avoid falling over. This was just like every sexy dream she'd ever had about him. She honestly couldn't believe it was happening. _If this turns out to be a dream, then when I wake up everyone in this camp is going to die._

"Go and make yourself ready, woman. I'll be right there to see to it." Feeling her underwear turn into a swamp, Kallian sprinted away faster than a Mabari chasing a rabbit. She ran as fast as her slender elf legs would carry her, before diving into her tent, and setting the stage. She'd waited a long, **long** time for this, and with expectation had come planning and preparation, so she had everything she'd need. First, she hung a sign outside saying 'DISTURB AND I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU'. Next, she put candles all over the very flammable tent, to set the mood and possibly entertain Oghren's apparent pain fetish. Then she tore off the slip like it was burning her, and dressed in the most criminally revealing nightwear she'd been able to steal from Denerim's market. Lastly, she retrieved the strip of leather she'd need to bite down on, lay down in a position that said 'come hither', and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And  
waited.

"What the fuck is taking him so long?!" For that moment, she didn't sound like a tiny, slender elf girl. She sounded like an enraged Qunari possessed by a rage demon; her voice was deeper than Morrigan's hatred for Alistair, more growly than her dog in a foul mood, and filled with enough fury to make a high dragon back the fuck away. Dropping her bite leather, she got up, dagger in one hand (In case Oghren had decided to back out), and angrily flung open her tent's flap.

Oghren was outside, but he didn't seem to be in any state for loving. He was lying face down in a puddle of his own vomit, and appeared to be completely KOed.

"DAMMIT!" Somehow Kallian's shriek didn't wake anyone in the camp. Neither did her loud, angry kicks to Oghren's unconscious form. While she did love the man, so much that it hurt and made her scarily irrational, she justified the kicks by reasoning that there was no way they'd actually hurt him: he was a solid wall of muscle and wearing armour thicker than Alistair's skull. Her kicks did, however, make her feel good, so she continued. Only when she accidentally knocked one of the dwarf's teeth loose did she stop.

Hot, bothered, and as likely of being ploughed as a genlock in a brothel, she flopped down on the ground, and briefly flailed in a tantrum before putting her head in her hands and sighing. _Now what?_ Slowly, she uncovered her eyes, and looked at the insensible man in front of her. Even with vomit encrusting his face, he was gorgeous. His body was as chiselled as a fine work of art, his hair was red as fire, and his scent...

"No." Oghren's booze and puke fragrance hit her like an aphrodisiac, and she jumped to her feet. "No, I am **NOT** giving up that easily. This man is hungry, and I swear by the Maker, by the elf gods, by the stone, by whatever fucking deity is listening, that he will be fucking fed!" Sticking her dagger between her teeth, Kallian grabbed Oghren's short legs with enough force to make an ogre howl in pain, and dragged him into her tent. "He wanted rump roast, and he'll get fucking rump roast!"

 _ **Sweet Maker why the fuck did I write this? Why the fuck did I PUBLISH it?**_

 _ **Yeah...I have no idea where this came from. Exhaustion induced delirium probably.**_

 _ **I thought I was done with stupid Dragon Age comedy stories after The Elfroot Problem, but apparently not.**_ _**You really wouldn't believe me if I said Dragon Age: Origins is my favourite game ever, would you? *Sigh***_

 _ **So yeah, I got home from a hellish shift at work, one of my favourite Oghren quotes from Dragon Age (The rump roast one) popped into my head, and bad ideas happened. Not the inspiration I need, but apparently the inspiration I deserve.**_

 _ **So...yeah. Not sure what to say about this. Review?...I guess? Or...don't? Man, I don't even know anymore. I could use some liquor myself. And rump roast too but that's besides the point.**_

 _ **P.S: I am still working on my Fallout story I swear.**_


End file.
